Virtuoso of Deceit
by Mara Greengrass
Summary: Of all the places Tim's had to sneak out of, this is surely one of the strangest.


TITLE: Virtuoso of Deceit  
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to DC Comics. I just fantasize about them.  
CONTINUITY: Before Identity Crisis and War Games, certainly.  
NOTES: Fanfic100 prompt #81, How? Psych30 prompt #7, Nature vs. Nurture. Completed for the Days of Awesome Jewish Characters ficathon, prompt #4, Deceit.

* * *

"You're going to be where?" Kon asked, perching in the windowsill.

"Synagogue." Tim rummaged through his closet, looking for his suit. Ah, there it was.

"You're going to some religious thing instead of coming to the Tower?"

Tim had to grin. "Not by choice, I assure you. My dad has had an attack of religious fervor and decided we need to start attending services again."

"Dude," Kon said, "I didn't even know you were Jewish."

"Religion's not the sort of thing that comes up often in our line of work." He paused. "Well, unless you're Huntress. Or Wonder Woman, I suppose."

"But it seems like it would have come up at some point," Kon persisted.

Rolling his eyes, Tim struck a pose, hand on his hip. "Brother Blood, unhand that woman! And by the way, I'm technically Jewish, but I only went to Hebrew school for a few years and I didn't have a bar mitzvah!"

Kon glared at him. "You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't. Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't." Kon shrugged, perching in the windowsill. "I just figured I should have known already."

Tim stopped what he was doing and looked at Kon for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. "I was brought up with no particular religion, so it never really occurred to me to mention it. It's not like I pray to any particular deity or anything. Most of the deities we've seen haven't been much smarter or nicer than your average fifth grader."

"So are you Jewish?"

Shrugging, Tim said, "I don't know."

Kon didn't seem to like that answer, but he changed the subject anyway. "How often are these services?"

Turning back to his closet, Tim held three ties up to the suit, then went for the boring red one. "Oh, they're every week, but don't worry."

"Every week and I'm not supposed to worry?" Kon was nearly bouncing in his agitation.

"No. It won't last past the holidays. Dad'll sit through one or two boring services and remember why he never goes. Then he'll give the synagogue a few thousand dollars and forget about it."

"If you say so." Kon shook his head, leaning out the window. "Gotta go. I promised Bart I'd meet him in Chicago before we go to the Tower. He wants to show me something."

Tim pursed his lips against the urge to remind Kon to be careful not to be seen leaving. "I'll see you next week. Promise."

"I'll keep you to that, man." Scanning the area, Kon was gone so fast, Tim imagined he could see a contrail behind him.

Tim shut the window and the shade, locked his door, and donned the lightest version of the Robin suit, followed by his good suit. He checked again in the mirror to make sure the Robin suit wasn't visible to the casual eye before unlocking the door.

Dick had laughed when he realized Tim intended to wear his costume. "What?" Dick asked. "You think the rabbi will turn out to be a Joker henchman?"

Tim frowned. "That might be an improvement, but that's not the point. I like to be prepared."

Examining himself in the mirror, Tim wished he'd had time to get this suit to Alfred, who could have added a few extra pockets. But he'd have to make do. At least the jacket hid the slight bulge of the shurikens in his pants pocket. And thanks to Bruce's extensive experience at hiding Batman, Tim was well-equipped to carry dangerous things in harmless forms.

Of course, Dick was probably right. But still...

* * *

The next morning, Tim was using all of his considerable skill at stakeouts not to squirm in his chair. He'd already read all of the English portions of the prayerbook and found them...repetitive and not especially interesting.

Oracle's voice in his right ear was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard as it came in under the sound of the cantor showing off his vocal range. "Robin, are you there? You're the closest operative and I don't think these hostages have much time."

Tim tapped the tiny comm once in acknowledgement and twice more for a query.

"Sorry, squirt. The next closest person's Huntress, but it'll take her at least half an hour to get there."

Tim stared at the prayer book in his hands. As the cantor reached the end of the prayer, Tim bent over to tie his shoe. "On it," he said, wishing his life was just a little less complicated. "Gimme a minute."

He edged past his father and Dana, toward the aisle. His dad raised an eyebrow. "Bathroom," Tim whispered.

Jack nodded and Tim did his best to walk quickly instead of running.

* * *

It took over an hour to sort the situation out and Tim thanked whatever deity or deities might be watching that he escaped without any injuries or filth that would need to be explained away.

Thanks to his fast research, Tim knew four ways to get into the building unseen, and he used the easiest, which involved no climbing, roofs, or windows that might leave marks on his good suit.

A set of miniaturized lockpicks slid into his hand without a conscious thought, and within moments, he was in the basement of the synagogue. Nobody even looked twice as he joined the crowd milling in the hallways, catching up with friends and acquaintances.

And he noted that he'd even timed things perfectly, strolling up, hands tucked casually into his pockets, just as the ushers opened the doors and started allowing people back in after the rabbi's sermon.

Tim allowed himself a small smirk. See if Dick teased him about doing too much prep work after this.

Moments later, Tim slid into his seat next to his father, long practice allowing him to hide the wince as a bruised rib brushed against the seat back.

His father leaned over. "I know what you were doing," his father said.

"Uh...you do?" Tim froze.

"Sure," Jack smiled and patted him on the knee. "I did the same thing when I was a kid dragged to services. You were probably out there talking to some girl, right?"

Tim let out a slow breath. "Well...kinda." There had been a young woman involved in the hostage situation and if you counted 'Stop right there!' as talking...

Jack grinned and went back to staring at the prayer book, while Tim remembered how to breathe.

"Hey, Yid Kid," Oracle said. "No need to respond. I just wanted to say good work. GCPD reports everyone's safe and sound and all perps are in custody."

* * *

"On Rosh Hashana it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed, but God's decree can be softened by teshuva, tefilah, and tzedakah," the rabbi said for the hundredth time. "Repentance, prayer, and good deeds."

Tim stared at the prayer book, wondering how many good deeds it took to balance out lying to his dad.

--end--

A/N: Now, you might reasonably ask why in the world I would think Tim Drake was Jewish. In fact, there is not a single canonical reason to believe he is. However, I've heard that some years ago, Chuck Dixon said that he intended Tim to be Jewish, and that's good enough for my purposes right now :) I've written one other fic in which Tim is Jewish, titled "That's Funny, You Don't Look Like a Vigilante." It's significantly more cracktastic and not connected to this story.


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